In the wetlands of the Brahmaputra’s mighty plain
An exalted figure stands midst the rising summer rain
The Hargila, a large bird in bone-grey, white and black
Survived for ages by its hunched and feathered back.
A heavy and sturdy bill strikes a formidable silhouette
It stalks marshy shallows where tall reeds gleam all wet
A bright orange pouch hangs on thick and rugged chest
Like an odd and dramatic jewel for a giant of the nest.
Often erred as ominous, this grand and sweeping bird
Moves with an imposing dignity and quiet grace inferred
The guardian of the scaffold towers, cleaner of the wild
A misunderstood majestic soul, nature’s resilient child.
High in the Kadamba boughs, the Hargila parents share
The tireless watch and efforts of shielding nests with care
While down below, Assamese mothers stand in solidarity
To save the winged protectors with devotion and charity.
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